


Weak Link in a Strong Chain

by TheEnchantedQuill



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-07-14 04:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16033352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEnchantedQuill/pseuds/TheEnchantedQuill
Summary: This is an alternate plot to Stronger, Faster, where instead of being left in the cave, Ratchet is taken aboard the Nemesis.





	1. Chapter 1

The only sound was the quiet shifting of chains, as Ratchet hung from them by his wrists, gaze cast downward and breathing light. He refused to meet Megatron's glare, to acknowledge the fact that he had just entered the cell. There was enough to think about without the warlord's presence to bother him. There were regrets to attend to. . . 

Like what the last thing he had said to his leader was. Primus, he had lashed out at Optimus, made a fool of himself, and then had gotten himself captured. His death would come before his apology to Optimus. The idea of it broke his spark, he knew he had hurt the Prime, the years of knowing him taught him to recognize the flash of pain in his gentle optics. He would be forgiven, of course. Optimus was a very forgiving mech, one thing Ratchet never had been. One thing Ratchet admired greatly. One of many things that Ratchet admired greatly. A pang of hurt pulsed in his spark, his optics shuttering for a moment. Why hadn't he ever told Optimus how much he admired him, adored him, loved him. . . He had thrown away that chance more times than he could count. 

And now, who knew what he would endure. Knockout had bled him, taking as much of his infected energon as possible, and replacing it with very little normal energon. He was weak and in pain, and surely Megatron had plans as to what would happen to him now that his usefulness had run out. All he could do was wait, to either meet his demise, or wait to be rescued. . . One was more likely than the other. He wouldn't let his hopes raise, he came to peace with the fact that he would most likely die on this warship. 

"Are you listening, Medic?" Before Ratchet could raise his optics, a sharp tip pressed to his middle, and a series of electric waves crashed over him all at once. A scream of agony escaped him, chains tightening as he jerked at them, struggling against his bindings. Desperate cries and screams spilled from his lips without end as the pain didn't cease, the prod pushed harder against his plating, the waves hitting hard and fast. When the prod was moved away, the pain lingered in a stubborn ache, leaving him gasping and shaking. 

"You will not ignore me again, Autobot," Megatron warned, gripping the prod in an angry fist. Ratchet looked up at him, vision distorted from the pain, barely making out his features. "You have provided us with a generous experiment, and in return, I will give you the opportunity to live." The warlord moved to stalk in a slow circle around him, a smirk playing at his scarred lips as he watched Ratchet's frame tremble and heave with agony. 

Doubt bled into Ratchet's optics, and he managed a weak scoff. "And-d-d what o-opportunity would that b-be?" 

As the Decepticon leader came in front of him, he slowed to a halt, a talon teaching out to take Ratchet's chin and lift his gaze a little, bearing his neck cabling. Ratchet swallowed and fought the urge to tear himself from the dangerous touch, angering the tyrant would only end with his own suffering. "If you provide me with the location of the Autobot base, I will allow you to live. You'll be placed in a more. . . Comfortable cell, until you have earned my trust, and from there, you will work alongside my scientists and medic in my lab. Perhaps one of our most accomplished Decepticons yet." His free claws on that servo lightly skimmed over his throat, a clear threat, a gentle persuasion. "All you have to do is give me the location of your dear Autobots." 

Despite the claws playing against his neck cabling, Ratchet smiled a joyless smile. "Betrayal for m-my life. You expect me to let-t my comrades be slaughtered? I will offline before I turn t-traitor." He replied dryly. His optics instinctively closed, he expected those talons to slash through his throat, expected to bleed out until he offlined before Megatron. But the claws only traced down his bared throat once more before withdrawing. 

"A loyal lapdog until the very end, as I suspected." A dramatic, fake sigh left Megatron. "And I had hoped I would have Prime's prize medic on my side." The warlord took a step back and smirked unpleasantly at the surprised look on Ratchet's face. "You will not have to convince me, I do believe you will die with that information. You will pay for turning down my generous offer, but not yet, you are still useful, Pet." 

Ratchet gritted his denta at the cruel nicknames, a fierce glare replacing the shock in his optics. "Do not assume I'll cooperate, Megatron," he spat, "I'll die before I am of any use to you!"

"I do not care for your tone. Moments ago you were screaming and crying out in agony, weakened and trembling with great pain; do you need to revisit such a state to remember your place?" Megatron frowned, a warning glint in his optics. 

"My place?" The medic gave the chains a tug as he tensed up in offense. "I am not beneath you, Megatron! You will not use fear to control me!" He snapped fiercely, optics blazing with hatred. Megatron growled, a servo swiping up to gasp his neck in a tight hold. Ratchet made a soft noise of pain, before biting his glossa, feeling his cables groan under the pressure. 

"You're testing my patience, Medic." The warlord sneered in a dark voice. "Luckily for me, I need you in pain for this part of my plan." Ratchet blinked, sighing softly in relief as the servo withdrew. "Soundwave," Megatron boomed over his com link, "Prepare the bridge. I will be there shortly with our guest." 

"What do you intend to do?" Ratchet asked quietly, as he was lowered to the floor, and the chain hooked to his cuffs was released. Megatron took up the chain and jerked it, forcing Ratchet forward with a yelp. From there, he was dragged from the cell, and into the dark hall, battling and pulling as hard as he could to resist the warlord, but it made no difference, he was brought into the bridge of the warship. There were several vehicons watching, and Soundwave stood before the controls, waiting.   
Megatron pulled Ratchet to the center of the room and forced him down; Ratchet landed on his knees with a yell of protest. One of the vehicons came and took the chain leash, standing back but making sure Ratchet wouldn't be able to run. 

"Start recording, Soundwave." Megatron ordered, glancing at the silent mech, who nodded in acknowledgement. Ratchet stared, frame tense. Why would Soundwave be recording? The warlord took his time in striding over to stand in front of Ratchet, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips at the sight of the medic on his knees before him, in his proper place. Ratchet glared up at him, anger sparkling in his blue optics that nearly drew a chuckle from Megatron. 

"Optimus," the tyrant suddenly greeted, looking over to Soundwave. "If you are watching this, then you have received my message, how fortunate. I'm sure that you are aware, that I have your precious medic here with me." Megatron knelt and grasped Ratchet's chin roughly, forcing him to look up at Soundwave, who recorded silently. "Certainly, you've been worried for your prized lapdog, and want him back. I am generous, I will kindly hand him back to you. In this embedded message, there are coordinates. You, and you ALONE, will meet me at these coordinates at the provided time, if you wish for your medic to be returned to you. Of course, you will come, you wouldn't want your medic to pay the price for your absence." Megatron stroked Ratchet's cheek with his thumb, holding his helm there. "Allow me to ensure you understand the dire consequences of your failure to show." The clawed hand released Ratchet's face, and he pulled away and gritted his denta furiously. How dare Megatron treat him like a prize? Use him to get at the Prime?

Megatron strode away for a moment, and a vehicon approached him holding a folded object. The warlord took it, and turned slowly to meet Ratchet's gaze, smirking maliciously. The medic couldn't resist the fear pooling in his optics and spark, unable to keep a steady expression. Megatron rounded around him, until he was a short distance behind him. Ratchet didn't look back at him, figuring he'd know what this was shortly. And he did. 

There was a crack, and a whip connected to his back, leaving a deep gash. A startled cry of pain escaped the medic, and he made to move, but the vehicon activated a blaster and aimed between his optics. Ratchet stared up at him pleadingly, until the next lash came, drawing another shriek, his gaze cast downward as energon dripped down his sides. The lashes didn't stop. They crisscrossed across his back, energon streaming down his plating, a shout of agony escaping him with every hit. He lost count, trying desperately to focus on his breathing, on his servos, anything that could distract him from his agony, but it didn't fade, only worsened by the second. His processor spun in panic, his frame trembled. . . 

After his back had turned to a mess of energon and lashes, the whipping stopped. Ratchet stayed on his servos and knees, which was slightly awkward with his wrists bound, but that was the least of his concerns. His sides heaved with every breath, he gasped in pain. . . Megatron strode closer from behind, chuckling. "It truly is remarkable, how a little pain can break the fiercest of spirits. . . I'll truly enjoy beating his fire out of him." He watched as Ratchet trembled, gasping. 

"F-Frag off. . ." Ratchet forced out between breaths.

Megatron only let out another low laugh. "You ought to have taught your pet better manners, Prime. I'll fix him up for you, don't worry." Another vehicon approached at his beckon, offering the energon prod back to him. Ratchet hid the renewed fear that coursed through him upon hearing it activate. The sharp tip was driven straight into one of the lash wounds, and the waves instantly returned. A series of agonized screams escaped Ratchet, he became even louder than he had been while receiving the lashings. It took everything to keep from leaping up and bolting, to stay down and take the torture Megatron had planned for him. He gritted his denta and squeezed his optics shut, trying to bite back the shrieks, but the control he had was lost and he screamed, seemingly endlessly. Megatron leaned closer to him, and whispered softly, barely audible over his own wails, "Beg, Medic. Beg me to stop."

Ratchet shook his helm, and the prod was moved to a deeper gash, jammed in forcefully before being dragged, cutting between the gashes while sending the electricity through him in harsh waves. He shrieked, sinking lower to the floor, desperate to escape. 

"Just beg, Medic. Beg me, and I will stop." 

The medic HATED the idea of begging for mercy, hated giving Megatron that satisfaction, and hated knowing Optimus would have to see him like this, but the pain was too great, and the offer was his way out.

"Megtatron, p-please, please st-stop. . !" He begged in a desperate voice. "Please, it-t hurt-ts. . ! Stop!" His elbows trembled, and he doubted his arms could support him for much longer. 

"Louder, Medic."

Ratchet's voice raised to a desperate scream. "M-Megatron, please! P-Please, stop-p! I b-beg of you!" A sinister laugh escaped Megatron, and the prod was withdrawn. Ratchet crumbled, pain still coursing through him, as Megatron stalked around him and knelt before him once again.

"I shall see you when the time comes, Optimus. I thank you for your time." He grasped Ratchet's cheek in mock affection, pushing his face up as Soundwave quietly strode over to get a closer shot. "Anything you wish to say to your leader, Pet?" 

Ratchet tried to cease his gasping, too weak to pull away from the warlord's grip. It was humiliating to address Optimus, being held by the Decepticon leader like this, but his pain was too great to care, and he had one goal. "O-Optimus. . . I'm s-sorry. . ." He managed to force out weakly. "P-Please. . . D-Don't come. . ." 

Megatron growled at the last bit, delivering a harsh slap across his face that drew a cry. "Don't fail your lapdog, Prime. I'm sure you don't wish to be finding parts of him spread across this pathetic planet." He nodded to Soundwave, who cut the recording, and trodded off. 

Ratchet stared at the ground, somewhat relieved. He had gotten the opportunity to apologize to Optimus before he died. Optimus would know it was a trap, the entire situation was too obvious, surely the Prime was wise enough to recognize it. Ratchet would die a slow and painful death, but at least he had told his leader he was sorry. 

"Take him to a cell." Megatron ordered, waving a servo. 

Ratchet didn't bother to fight or object as he was pulled by the chain towards the door. He stumbled weakly, making soft noises of pain. Megatron watched energon drip from him to the floor, smirking.

 

 

Each scream cut into Optimus' spark without mercy, each sound and desperate gasp that escaped Ratchet made him flinch and grow tense. Watching his enemy torture his closest friend for the satisfaction of getting at him. . . 

And through the pain and humiliation of being used in such a manner, Ratchet had asked for forgiveness. The unstable energon had vanished from him; Optimus assumed Megatron had drained him of it. At least he was back to the normal Ratchet. Enough to recognize what he had said. . . Ratchet's words had certainly hit deep, but it wasn't him, he didn't mean it. . . 

He could worry about that later. There was a meeting to think about.

Megatron had obviously set a trap for him. It was far too easy to just walk in and leave with Ratchet, he knew that much. Ratchet did too, he had asked him not to come. . . But if he didn't show, Ratchet would endure suffering and pain. . . Could he live with himself, knowing that? 

He would have to make a decision.


	2. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a continuation that a lot of you have been asking for. Just some closure and a little fluff. Tiiiiny bit of fluff. Fun fun.

A morning chill was heavy in the air, much different to the suffocating atmosphere of the Nemesis; breathing in the fresh air brought some relief to Ratchet as Breakdown hauled him to where Megatron stood. His wounds had been lazily and neglectfully treated, and some of the gashes had even reopened over night. A small portion of energon was delivered to him, enough, in addition to a little sleep, to restore some of his energy. He was back to feeling feisty. There was nothing to lose, he would be tortured to death and most likely gruesomely presented to his leader after; he would live his last length of time in his snappy character. He had delivered angry curses and a bout of resistance when Breakdown fetched him from his cell, and dragged him through a bridge, but recognizing a battle he'd lose, he complied irritably. 

Through the bridge was a wide open field, emptiness for miles, only soft, green, wet grass. Megatron stood a small distance away, servos clasped behind his back, regarding the horizon with thought. Vehicons were scattered about, watching, waiting, blasters drawn. 

Ratchet hissed in pain when Breakdown pushed into his back, against his wounds, a signal to walk forward. He flashed him an angry look, but obliged, and allowed himself to be brought before Megatron without a fight. The warlord looked at him as he stopped before him, their optics meeting; Ratchet's bore a heavy glare. Amusement bled into Megatron's features. 

"You're wasting your time," the medic declared bravely, "He's not going to come. You couldn't even dignify him with a believable trap. A lord of deception ought to be more capable." 

The amusement only grew. "He will come, dearest Ratchet. I don't need an elaborate trap, or a believable lie. . . He will always come for you." Megatron let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his helm. "Poor Optimus Prime, forming so many weak links, inevitably forming his downfall." 

An offended look crossed Ratchet's features, and his voice rose slightly, "You're a fragging fool." He spat. 

The amusement was gone from the warlord's face, and slight agitation sparked in his optics. "You dare insult me, bound and at my mercy, a prize to be slaughtered, a weak pet. . . You dare call me a fool, in your position?" A clawed servo took hold of the cuffs around the medic's wrists. "I admire your bravery, Doctor, but it is tragically misplaced. You will be better off if you obey me, and keep your mouth shut." The warlord spoke in a low, menacing voice. 

Ratchet opened his mouth to bury himself deeper into the hole he had dug, but the sound of a groundbridge whirling to life brought his attention elsewhere. His leader strode through the swirling beams, and onto the gleaming grass, very much alone. He took long, even steps until he was a small distance away, stopping as hundreds of blasters suddenly pointed at him and activated with a click. Megatron straightened up a bit, an unsettling smirk crossing his scarred lips, as horror crashed over Ratchet in a heavy wave.

"Opti-" He started, but Megatron squeezed with his servo on the cuffs, tightening the hold on Ratchet's wrists in a silent threat. 

"Optimus!" The warlord greeted in dramatic enthusiasm. "How good it is to see you, your dear medic was so convinced you wouldn't come, how wonderful it is to reassure him." He flashed the Prime a pointed grin. 

Ratchet's terrified optics met those of his leader, and they gazed at each other for a moment, before Optimus looked back to his enemy. "I have complied to your demand. Release Ratchet." There was little hope in his voice, he knew the low probability of Megatron handing his medic over so easily. He had to try. 

"Such a hurry, Optimus." Megatron chuckled. "Why leave without a chat?" He began striding towards him, dragging Ratchet with him. When he had a smaller amount of space between them, the warlord threw the medic to the ground roughly; Ratchet landed on his knees before Optimus with a grunt of pain, glancing up at his leader, before looking away, rather humiliated. Optimus made to bend down to help him, but Megatron cut the move with a warning look. 

"What do you want?" The Prime's voice was slightly deeper, anger rising in his optics ever so slightly. 

"Nothing," Megatron replied in mock sweetness, "I have what I want." The surrounding vehicons began move in, forming a loose circle around them, weapons still pinned on Optimus. "I assume you know that I don't intend on letting either of you walk away from this."

Optimus set his jaw, watching the approaching decepticons warily, visibly tense. Vehicons weren't much trouble, in combat they were nothing, but the numbers they had on him. . . As well as Breakdown and Megatron. They not only had that advantage, but also a hostage. . . 

“Negotiate,” he requested in an even voice. 

“No,” Megatron answered simply.

“Leave!” Ratchet stared up at him with firm optics. If he transformed fast enough, he could outrun them for a small stretch and bridge home. That was the best chance at survival- for Optimus, at least. There was no getting out of there for Ratchet.

His leader looked at him sadly. “He won't abandon you, Medic.” Megatron raised an optic ridge; Optimus wanted very badly to shoot the smug look off of him. “Well, enough wasting time.” Panic flashed in Optimus’ optics. Megatron's cannon hummed as it charged up, taking aim at the center of Ratchet's back.

Things happened very quickly, and Ratchet didn't really have time to process it. The only thing he saw was the horrified look his leader suddenly had, and the sound of transformation. He saw Optimus fire, but before he understood what Optimus had aimed at, a searing heat ripped over his side. He felt more energon glide down his plating, frag his side hurt. . . Black splotches picked at his vision, the world beginning to spin. 

Consciousness left him. 

 

 

 

 

Pain was what woke him. There wasn't a part of him that didn't ache. What had happened? He had been shot, he knew that much, he sure felt it. But what happened after that? Had they escaped the Decepticons? Frag, was Optimus alright?

Was he dead?

It sure fragging felt like it. 

Something was tugging at him. . . Fragging stop it, that hurts. . . 

He woke groggily with a whine of pain, the light burnt his optics as they opened. “U-Ugh. . .”

Optimus looked down at him, blinking in surprise. “I'm sorry, Old Friend, I didn't mean to wake you.” He hastily finished replacing the bandages on his side. “I didn't think you would wake, you've been unconscious for so long-”

“. . . How long. . .” Ratchet forced out tiredly. 

“Two days. At first, we induced stasis to get you stabilized, and then you just didn't wake. The damage was nearly fatal. . .” Optimus vented. I am very sorry, Old Friend.”

Ratchet rolled his optics. “Give me something for the pain and maybe I'll forgive you.” He pointed. “There, in the drawer.” The Prime quickly fetched a small bottle for him, pouring out a couple tablets and giving them to his medic. “Thank you. Now what were you apologizing for? I can't fragging think straight, everything fragging hurts.”

Optimus cracked a small smile at his medic's attitude. If Ratchet wasn't being sassy, then something was wrong. The smile didn't last, though. “I'm sorry for what happened to you. What you endured was a shot at me, and I despise that, Megatron didn't have a right to use you in such a cruel manner.” He sighed, gaze moving to a nearby wall, watching Ratchet had upset him too much. “I failed to keep you safe as well. If I had stopped you before you found Megatron, you wouldn't have been captured. If I had stopped you from injecting more of the synthetic energon. . . And when Megatron shot you. . .” He covered his face with one servo, rubbing his temple. He looked so tired, exhaustion plaguing his gentle features. . .

Ratchet listened silently, before inhaling deeply. “I should be apologizing to you. My capture was my own fault. You advised me not to conduct tests on myself, and I didn't listen. I went looking for Megatron on my own. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” He closed his optics. “And. . . I'm so sorry for what I said to you. None of it was even remotely true, and I don't think that of you, I think so highly of you, and I'm so sorry I lashed out at you like that.” 

A servo rested on his, and he smiled. “I'll forgive you if you forgive me.” Optimus offered.

“I don't deserve it.” Optimus shook his helm slowly at that, a persistent look gleaming in his optics. Ratchet sighed. “You're so good to me.” 

The Prime gave a small laugh, something he would never do in front of the others. This was a piece of Orion Pax still living inside him, reserved only for Ratchet to witness.

“How am I here?”

“Bumblebee, Arcee and Bulkhead were waiting. It was an ambush, we had arrived long before the Decepticons. Once Megatron had fired at you, the fighting had begun. We barely made it out. . . Arcee was badly injured.” 

Ratchet shifted, and he looked at Optimus. “I'm amazed that you got me out alive. You never fail to impress. I've known you forever, and you still surprise me- from time to time.” He smiled at him.

“You took a shot in the side with already low energon levels, and here you are, speaking to me. You're built to last.” The Prime grinned back at him. 

“Don't think I'm leaving the base any time soon,” Ratchet warned, “Frag, I won't be walking for weeks, and my back. . .”

“You'll make a swift recovery.” 

“It'll be a pain in the aft, though.”

Optimus laughed again.

And then they sat in silence, a friendly, knowing quiet, a sense of relief heavy in the air. What had been broken was now mended. 

 

 

Some time later, while the others had left to take the children home, Ratchet had convinced Optimus he needed to start walking so he could get back to work. The Prime insisted that more rest was necessary, that his recovery could not be rushed, but a vicious glare had silenced him. A compromise had been made- Optimus would help him.

Ratchet was still very weak. Optimus was practically carrying him, his legs buckling rather often. “You're not ready,” he gently said as Ratchet collapsed against his chest with a gasp of pain. 

“I can do it,” the medic forced out, but he only clung to Optimus as to stay upright. He knew he was wrong. 

His leader didn't reply immediately, only shifted to slide an arm under his legs to scoop him off the ground. Ratchet whined in pain, but sighed in relief as the effort of standing left him. “I believe you,” Optimus murmured to him, “But now isn't the time.” He gently laid Ratchet down on the berth, careful of his back. 

A childish smile crossed Ratchet's lips. “I don't mind being tended to.” He drawled as Optimus laid a blanket over his legs. “Remind me to be captured and tortured more often.” 

“Or you could simply ask.” Optimus offered. 

“As if you have the time to pamper an old bot.” 

The Prime watched his medic's face with a smile. “I would make time.”

A moment of silence passed, and they were just staring at each other. Ratchet was the first to look away, venting softly. “You have no idea what you're doing to me.” It was a pleasant surprise when a pair of lips pressed a gentle kiss to his forehelm while his gaze was cast a different direction. 

“You are mistaken, Old Friend. I am well aware.”


End file.
